


Elara: Hope Is Her Anchor

by astridloker



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7030954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridloker/pseuds/astridloker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elara was a hunter from Clan Lavellan before being thrust into the role of The Chosen One. As she struggles to adapt to her new responsibilities outside the forest in the Free Marches, she finds comfort in her companions and confidence in her abilities to save Thedas and help her people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hinterlands

**Author's Note:**

> Elara's narrative begins right after the events of Redcliffe while she is still in Haven, getting to know her crew.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elara returns to Haven with Dorian after recruiting the mages from Redcliffe and finds herself curious about Solas' apparent disdain for the Dalish.

The mages were recruited to the Inquisition as allies, though the decision to treat them as equals did not sit well with everybody. It was not a position the mages were used to being in, but it was one they all longed for. Cullen and Cassandra, as former-templar and seeker, would have preferred to keep the rebels leashed. That, as history had proven, did not end well. If the Inquisition were to remain unified and powerful, it could not enslave people. Without their respect, they would not fully cooperate. They would only do what was required of them. She wanted everyone at their best. Besides that, the mages had been through enough. They were finally free.  


If Dorian did not walk beside her, chattering away in his upbeat fashion, Elara would have retired to her room on their return to Haven to take a nap. Going through rifts and saving the world from future annihilation took a lot out of her. It made her hand sting with buzzing energy that occasionally ran up her arm in sharp pains. Whatever magic Alexius had mastered, it did not sit well with her mark. But listening to Dorian put her in a good mood, despite all that had happened.  


Solas and Cassandra followed behind them in relative silence. They did not feel the need to fill the air with idle chatter. And perhaps they each knew the other felt the opposite in regards to the result of the meeting at Redcliffe. The rebel mages were invited, not conscripted, to the Inquisition.  


"So, do tell me about your friends," Dorian said, looking sidelong at Elara. She'd been quiet for some time, probably lost in thought over the red lyrium that threatened to take over Thedas in a year if they didn't succeed in heeding the warning they were given. It was a lot to take in, even for him. But what mattered is that it hadn't happened yet. They had plenty of time to stop it. In the meantime, he needed to fit in and learn about these new friends he was going to make. Friends. Pfah! He always liked a challenge. Tevinter or not, he would win them over.  


"Well, you've met Solas and Cassandra," Elara said, glancing back at the two. Cassandra, solemn as ever, said nothing. Solas was nonchalant, but he met her gaze.  


"Ah, yes, the Seeker of Truth," Dorian said, "What is that, exactly? I have to admit, I've never heard of the order."  


"Why would you?" Cassandra answered, "They do not exist in Tevinter."  


"But what are they? Some manner of super-Templar?" When she didn't answer, Dorian scoffed, "Is this one of those Southern secrets, like proper hygiene?"  


Elara snorted. She was not from Ferelden herself, but it was not so different from the Free Marches. She had no doubt Dorian could criticize anything and anyone that was not from Tevinter, even though he was not proudly waxing on about his home country.  


"Once," Cassandra said, "we worked from the shadows, monitoring Templars and mages alike."  


"Ah," Dorian nodded, "That clearly worked out well."  


"Your glibness does you no credit. The mage rebellion was beyond even our power to control."  


Dorian turned his attention to the apostate elf behind him. "Solas, you're not Dalish, I take it?"  


"No. Neither am I city-elf, before you ask. I am an elf and that's all you really need concern yourself with."  


"Oh, I know you're no city-elf. You're an apostate. I've seen your magic. For having never been trained formally, you're quite good."  


"I'm even better than most who have had formal training."  


"And quite modest, as well," Dorian grinned. "Without a clan or templars watching you, do you frolic naked in the forest by yourself?"  


Elara let out an uninhibited chuckle. For all the absurd stories about elves that she'd heard, that was one she could see Solas guilty of. Without the frolicking, of course. But he did have a progressive mind, an openness that she'd never seen before in any elf or mage. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if he took naked strolls through the forest under the moonlight.  


"I do not frolic," Solas said, his voice stiff.  


She withheld another chuckle, imagining that only to be confirmation of her thoughts, which, she tried to push out of her mind as soon as she realized what an awkward length of time she spent pondering Solas' nakedness. It was strange to have such intruding thoughts, especially of somebody she still felt was a stranger, even after all the time they'd spent together travelling. He was introspective and quiet, offering advice only as it was needed.  


Dorian looked at Elara and said, "Well, other than these two rays of sunshine, who else do I have to look forward to meeting?"  


"Varric Tethras," Elara said, answering with the first person to come to mind. "It wouldn't surprise me if you already know who he is. He is a steadfast friend."  


"You have already become so familiar with him, lethallin?" Solas asked, a little bit surprised, considering Varric had only been invited to half the outings they had been on.  


Of all the people in Haven, Varric was the one Elara spent much of her leisure time with, finding him easy to approach and full of entertaining stories, however made up they might be. Though she didn't bring him along on as many excursions as she did Solas or the Iron Bull, she had gotten to know him well enough. Solas' asking about their acquaintance did make her wonder if she was too quick to label him a close friend. However, being away from her clan, Elara sought kinship with her new allies. Varric was the closest thing she had to family now. As were the others, even him. But she needed to make it known by forging deeper bonds with all of them. "I may not have known him for very long, but I trust him, and I like him."  


"Well, from what I have gathered of Varric is that he is extremely loyal to those he considers his friends," Solas said.  


"Varric Tethras," Dorian repeated the name, sparking familiarity. "Oh, yes, he writes those, eh... interesting books. He's also a famed merchant known even in Tevinter. I look forward to meeting him."  


"I really should read them," Elara said.  


Cassandra masked her internal screaming excitement over Varric-book-talk. "I believe some chantry sisters have copies that you could borrow. Should you wish to read that drivel."  


"I'll ask around," Elara said and looked at Dorian. "Then, there is also the Iron Bull. He's a qunari. He doesn't like Tevinters, but his second-in-command was from Tevinter. Of course, his second-in-command _escaped_ Tevinter, so it's not quite the same as... a mage. He might be brash, but he will have your back."  


"As he should," Solas interjected, "The Inquisition is paying him well enough for his services."  


"A qunari mercenary? Well, this should be fun," Dorian smirked.  


"We've also recruited a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. A good man. Somber though," Elara said. She still needed to spend more time speaking with Blackwall. They had discussed the wardens, but she still knew very little about him and she hadn't spoken about herself at all.  


"Yes, a good man to be sure," Cassandra said, "The inquisition could use more like him."  


"I agree," Solas added. "He is a hard-nosed man, but his mind is surprisingly open to new information... even though sometimes his questions seem to be influenced by Sera."  


"Sera?" Dorian asked and looked to Elara for clarification.  


"You'll like her. She's strange and doesn't always make sense, but she has an infectious laugh. And she laughs a lot. I'm not always sure about what. But she has a good heart," Elara said decidedly. "She fights for those caught in the middle, the innocent and the poor who suffer at the hands of the rich and noble. But, for some reason, she doesn't care for elves."  


"And she is one," Cassandra said pointedly.  


"A self-hating elf?" Dorian smirked, "That's got to be fun considering elves seem to think so highly of themselves." He looked at Solas and shrugged, "No offense."  


"That is something that we do not entirely disagree about."  


Elara knitted her brows but remained silent. She didn't want to get into it with anyone, but she couldn't help feeling like she was being spoken about as if she weren't present. They were insulting her people.  


Cassandra picked up on Elara's discomfort and changed the subject. "Aren't you forgetting someone, Herald?"  


Elara sighed, her voice quiet, "Please don't call me that."  


Cassandra remembered that although she believed the maker chose her, Elara didn't. "I will try to remember."  


Elara rubbed her temple, trying to remember where they left off, and inwardly admonished herself for letting their comments bother her so. She must grow thicker skin if she is to live outside her clan. All eyes were on her, on the anchor that could tear the very sky asunder. "Vivienne," she said, "an enchanter of the imperial court. And then the advisors, Commander Cullen, Lady Leliana, and Ambassador Josephine."  


"A grand enchanter too? Well. You have assembled quite the cast of characters into this inquisition of yours."  


"You'll fit right in," Elara said and pointed to the soldiers training in front of the main gates by the tents. "Commander Cullen is the one with the big fluffy collar."  


Dorian slowed to a stop and had to consciously prevent himself from outwardly admiring the handsome man. She looked back at Elara and spun around to find her on her way into Haven through the double doors. "I guess I'll just make myself at home then."  


Cassandra stood beside him. "I need to inform the Commander of what happened."  


"Care to introduce me?"  


Cassandra sighed, "Only because you can explain it better than I can."  


Elara smiled, relieved to see Varric, one person she could count on not offending her. She hopped up to sit on the edge of the wall by him and sighed.  


"What's wrong, Firefly? Did it go that bad?"  


"No, it went great," she said. Well, that was oversimplifying things. But they did recruit the mages. That would make the trip a success. "I'm just tired." She rubbed her hand, pressing her thumb into her palm. When she glanced up, she noticed Solas' eyes on her as he passed them to walk up the steps toward the houses in back. "The mages from Redcliffe should be here soon. And we've gained a powerful ally, a Tevinter mage."  


"A Tevinter mage? Firefly, are you sure about that?" Varric rested his hands on his hips and thought about it, "Well, we have a Qunari spy in our ranks, so why not?"  


"His name is Dorian. There he is," Elara said, raising her hand to wave him over as he walked up the steps.  


Dorian stopped in front of them. "Varric, I presume?"  


"That's right, Sparkles."  


"Sparkles?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. "My name is Dorian."  


"Don't worry. I have a keen eye for nicknames, and you most definitely are a Sparkles."  


"He's right. You are. I saw what you did with that staff."  


"Well, besides the obvious joke there, I shall take it as a compliment. Or at least I will try to," he said and extended his hand. "Pleasure."  


Varric laughed, "Likewise. I'm sure you'll make for great inspiration for one of my books."  


Elara beamed, "Oh! Yes! Varric, have we got a story to tell you."  


"Wait, let me get my notebook..."  


With Dorian's help recounting the details, Elara told Varric everything. About the magister, the deal with the mages, and, of course, their glimpse into the future. Time itself had ripped open and swallowed them whole. After she finished, she left Dorian and Varric to hash out the details amongst themselves. 

Elara went in search of Solas, following the path he had walked before. She was curious about him. He had a quiet intensity about him that was intimidating, but at the same time, she felt he was one of her people. With her other allies, most of which were human, she felt there were certain expectations of her being an elf, a stigma that followed every knife-ear in Thedas. Perhaps that is why she hadn't tried so hard to speak with him as she had the others. He was always there, willing to help with whatever quest they were on in the Hinterlands, helping the refugees or recruiting agents for the cause. But when they returned to Haven, he went his way, and she went hers, usually first to see Varric if he hadn't been with them.  


When Solas saw her, he could see a hesitation in her steps. Her discomfort earlier hadn't gone unnoticed. He knew it was only a matter of time before she wanted to speak with him about the culture of Elvhenan. It surprised him that she hadn't broached the topic sooner. She knew he walked the Fade, knew that he was an apostate, self-trained, and that he voluntarily joined the Inquisition, despite his solitary nature. Perhaps it was his perceived nature that kept her at a distance, or perhaps she feared his magic. He could not know unless he asked.  


He had seen her grow over the course of the last four weeks. When she first arrived, she conducted herself calmly and gracefully in the presence of her human peers, but he could sense she felt she was fumbling her way through these interactions. She was labeled the Herald of Andraste, the chosen by a prophet she didn't believe in. But posturing was necessary. She knew as much. The fleeting looks of discomfort came less often. He guessed she gave less conscious thought to being an elf among humans, carefully choosing her words to avoid giving them a reason to hate her clan and kin. It came more naturally to her now.  


He had seen the way she spoke with those she recruited personally. The Iron Bull, Blackwall, Varric... She was trying to be their friend, their lethallin, though many of them still saw her as a bow and arrow, a glowing hand. She was out of her element in this war, having lived her life as a hunter in the forests of the Free Marches. But she was adaptable. She had proven that much.  
"Solas," she said, pressing her thumb into the palm of her hand.  


"What can I do for you?" he asked, his voice soft.  


"I'd be interested in hearing your opinions of elven culture," she said.  


"I thought you would be more interested in sharing _your_ opinions of elven culture. You are Dalish, are you not?"  


"I... yes, I am," she faltered. She would feel foolish letting her emotions get the better of her in his presence. Even his hostility was understated, cloaked beneath his stoic exterior. "My clan is from the Free Marches. My Keeper is trying to preserve the culture of our people, with what little there is left."  


"'Our people,'" Solas said ruefully, "You use that phrase so casually. It should mean more. But the Dalish have forgotten that. Among other things."  


"I know," Elara started, "the clans are scattered, their traditions inconsistent, their compassion lacking toward outsiders. We are all trying in our own way not to lose what we have. My clan come from the elves who refused to surrender when the humans broke their treaty and destroyed the Dales."  


"Your Keeper was not wrong about that, at least. We must mark the occasion of the Dalish remembering something correctly. Perhaps we should plant a tree."  


Elara was taken aback by his sarcasm but took a deep breath, calming herself. "I care to understand why you are angry and why you insult my people."  


"They are children, acting out stories misheard and repeated wrongly a thousand times. While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk the Fade. I have seen things they have not. I have seen the history the Dalish try to imitate."  


She furrowed her brow, wondering. "Then, why do you not teach them? You can walk the Fade where others cannot."  


"Would your clan listen to what I had learned in my studies? My travels? Or would they mock the flat-ear and his stories and go back to their ruins?" Solas asked, his tone cutting in its subtle way.  


Elara felt her heart sink, her suspicions all but confirmed. He had met a clan, perhaps more than one, that had turned him away and insulted him. Her keeper was more progressive than most. She liked to think she would have listened to him, learned from him. He was a fountain of knowledge, that much she knew. But she also knew less about magic than the keeper and her second. Perhaps they would have doubted his talent.  


"Ir abelas, hahren," she said, her voice soft. "If the Dalish have done you a disservice, I would make that right. What course would you set for them that is better than what they know now?"  


Solas studied her, disarmed by her acceptance. "You are right, of course. The fault is mine. For expecting of the Dalish what they could never truly accomplish," he said, his voice smooth with remorse. He had treated her unfairly unkind. "Ir abel _as_ , da'len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask."  


"I will," she said, the subtlety of his correction of her pronunciation not going unnoticed. "I want to learn from you and hear about your journeys into the Fade. But for now, we should rest. The mages will arrive soon. Before long, we will have to close the breach."  


"Yes," he said, "You are certain you experienced time travel? Could it have been an illusion, a trick of the Fade?"  


"I doubt it. Dorian is familiar with the form of magic and seems certain. And why would Alexius show us a future in which his life goes down in flames?"  


"Point taken," he said. "What an amazing gift. It is vital the Inquisition succeed, to avoid the future you witnessed."  


She smiled, "Most people have trouble wrapping their heads around the idea."  


"I'm not most people."  


"I know," she said, tilting her head. "You were there, you know. You helped us escape. You seemed to understand what was happening then, too. "  


"If you wish me to speak of Orlesian fashion, I may be at a loss. Magical surprises I can handle."  


"Aren't you curious about what you said to me?" she asked, "Curious about your own future?"  


"I know enough," he said. "The mark. Is it bothering you?"  


She held her hand up to inspect it, realizing she had been massaging her palm idly during their talk, though the pain from the magic had all but gone away. She had been nervous. "Going through that rift in time aggravated it some, but I'll be fine."  


"Here," Solas said, holding out his hand to take hers. When she rested her hand palm up in his, he covered it and cast a spell so a healing energy flowed through her arm to calm the mark. "Sildeara atish."  


"Thank you," she said, looking at her hand again after he finished. Whatever residual energy she'd felt buzzing through her before was gone. "I'm glad we talked, Solas."  


"As am I."


	2. Escape From Haven

Cold.  


Elara's fingers were numb, her skin on fire as the wind chilled through her, slowing her trek up the mountain. She found signs of the soldiers' whereabouts as she wandered blindly through the darkness and the snow, black and white blurring together. She strained to keep her pace, following the footsteps in the snow before they were covered up or blown away.  


Lightheaded.  


She was disoriented in the wide open pasture, lost in the blizzard. She had to make it. Just a little further. She kept moving, forcing her legs to rise and fall even though she'd lost feeling in them long ago. Her nose hurt and her eyes felt bruised, her vision going in and out of focus as she shielded her face with her arm when it became too much.  


As soon as she heard their voices and knew they saw her, her body gave out in the snow. When she woke, she was relieved to hear their voices again and to have regained feeling in all of her extremities. Someone sat at her bedside. Mother Giselle.  


She listened to the argument between the leaders of the inquisition and debated joining their circle to speak her mind. She hadn't really put a thought together yet though. Better to let them have at it.  


When Elara sat up, Mother Giselle coo'ed, "Shh, you need to rest."  


"They've been at it for hours," Elara said, aware that she'd been hearing their voices in her sleep, though she hadn't listened to all that was said between them.  


"They have that luxury thanks to you," Giselle said softly as she leaned closer. "The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, we turn to blame. Infighting may threaten us as much as this Corypheus."  


"They are all strong leaders with loud voices, but they will work together," Elara said, hopeful. They'd gotten them this far. "Do we know where Corypheus and his forces are?" She wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious, but she was afraid Corypheus could still follow.  


"We are not sure where we are, which may be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That or you are believed dead. Without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature, only his effect on us."  


"Should I speak with them? If they intend to use me, I should have a say in what happens next," Elara said.  


"Another heated voice won't help, even yours. Perhaps especially yours."  


"I have no intention of fighting with them," Elara said. "If anything, I would try to put out the fires."  


"Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand and fall. And now we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear, and the more our trials seem ordained."  


"You mean the more it seems like I am the Herald of Andraste?"  


"That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure? What we perhaps must come to believe?"  


"I escaped the avalanche. Barely perhaps, but I didn't die."  


"Of course. And the dead cannot return from across the veil. But the people know what they saw or perhaps what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the heavens are not with us?"  


"I was raised to believe in the elven gods. I know little of the Chantry's teachings," Elara said. "I did not feel the gods guiding or influencing me. And I do not believe I am some kind of chosen one. Especially for a god I know nothing about." Elara sighed, "Forgive me, Mother Giselle. I understand the importance of hope, truly. I just don't give it too much thought. Corypheus is a physical threat that must be defeated through strategic planning, powerful alliances, magic, and metal."  


"An army needs more than an enemy. It needs a cause." Mother Giselle stood up from Elara's bedside and broke the somber silence with song.  


_Shadows fall_  


_And Hope has fled_  


_Steel your heart_  


_The Dawn will come_  


The chorus that disappeared into the darkness was as spiritual a feeling as Elara had ever felt. It was kinship, mourning, and hope -- hope desperately needed.  


Elara looked up as Solas approached her bedside. Though he voluntarily joined the Inquisition and aided her in closing the Breach, they had spoken little in Haven. He was quick to deride the Dalish -- her and her clan -- as children. And he seemed so proud and arrogant to announce that he knew better because he walked the Fade. Though she had taken offense, she disarmed and humbled him with her response. After all, the Dalish would treat him as an outsider, a flat-ear. And he was right to admit that the Dalish could not accomplish what he was gifted the ability to do, to see. She wanted to learn more from him, which she guessed was not the usual response to his claimed knowledge.  


"A word," he said and led her away from the main encampment. She followed behind him, admiring the way he carried himself as he and watched in awe as he lit a torch of veilfire with a wave of his hand.  


"The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. Their faith is hard won, lethallin. Worthy of pride, save one detail. The threat Corpyheus wields, the orb he carries -- it is ours," he said, warming his hands against the flame. "Corypheus used the orb to open the breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. We must find out how he survived. And we must prepare for their reaction when they learn the orb is of our people."  


"What is it? How do you know about it?" Elara asked, confused. She had never seen or learned about any such artifact.  


"Such things were foci. Said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins and faint visions of memory in the Fade. Echoes of a dead empire. But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is elven. And with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."  


"Some? Do you think the orb he wields belonged to somebody in particular?"  


"That, I do not know."  


Elara sighed, frustrated by the long history of hostility between humans and elves. "Even if we defeat Corypheus, eventually they'll find a way to blame elves."  


"I suspect you are correct. It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment but needs room to grow."  


"I am ever mindful of the delicate relationship we hold with humans," Elara said. "I will cooperate with them however I must to defeat Corypheus. Clan Lavellan is not so fearful or hostile as many other Dalish clans are. We fostered our relations with the humans in the cities we dwelt by. I will try not to give them a reason to hate us."  


“That is good to hear. There may be hope for the Dalish yet. The entire world looks to you now. Show them all how elves are important to this world,” Solas said. “By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it... changed you. Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the inquisition can build... grow...”  


Elara moved to stand beside him and looked out over the mountain where the sun was rising. “It’s beautiful.”  


Solas looked at her to admire her face as the sun washed over it and replied, “Yes, it is.” He only took his eyes off of her once he realized he hadn’t stopped looking at her.  


She looked up at him and turned to head back to camp. “North it is.”

As they crossed the mountains, she walked beside Solas, letting him guide her if she began to stray from the path to the place he knew. The leaders were close on their heels with the army and inhabitants of Haven following behind with carts holding whatever they could salvage from the village before it was destroyed.  


The sun was beginning its descent when Solas said, “Not much further now.”  


Elara climbed up over the rocks to stand on the precipice, at first to find a path for the caravan, when she saw the fortress built into the side of the mountain across from them.  


“Skyhold,” Solas said.  


Elara breathed, “Wow.”  


“Come,” Solas said, leading her down the mountain.  


“How do you know of this place?”  


“I read about an ancient fortress believed to once belong to an elven god. So, I journeyed here to dream. It will serve the inquisition well.”  


She looked at him, curious, “Which god?”  


Solas looked pleased and replied, “Fen’harel. This was once his.”  


“Fen’harel…” Elara looked ahead at the fortress again in wonderment. She had only heard stories of the dread wolf leading people astray, betraying the gods, and locking them away. Yet even her own clan worshipped Fen’harel, carving statues of the dread wolf to drive away evil spirits and protect the camp. It always confused her how dichotomous their beliefs were. It occurred to her that she’d read the journal of the keeper of clan Ralaferin, which stated the dread wolf still wandered the earth. “Would he be upset that we are taking up residence in his fortress?”  


“I have the feeling that he would not be opposed to it as he has not been heard from for centuries.”  


“I read the Dread Wolf still wanders the earth. I suppose if he came back, we could just ask him nicely to join us,” Elara smiled at him. “Think it would work? Or would he turn into a dragon and eat us all?”  


Solas raised a brow, “I do not believe I have heard that one yet. In that version, is he the Dread Dragon?”  


Elara chuckled, “Well, I’ve heard enough tales of terror and so many variations of them that I thought I would make my own. I don’t believe half of them are true. The Dread Wolf has been used to scare children. Like the Ferelden humans tell their tales of the Witch of the Wilds.”  


“Most of what the world supposedly knows to be true has been passed down through folk tales and distorted. It is good that you do not take them literally. Yet, you are afraid of offending him?”  


“I am only acknowledging the possibility that he still wanders Thedas. That part may not have been exaggerated. Either way, Skyhold will be the new home of the Inquisition. We would see Corypheus coming from miles away.”  


Solas could not let the conversation end there, his curiosity piqued since she considered Fen'Harel in a way he'd never heard from a Dalish. “And if he did return, what would you tell him about all his unexpected guests?”  


“Oh, I’d take him straight to you and we could have a little elven party.”  


Solas felt his lips twitch with a flicker of amusement. He had followed her through the Hinterlands with Cassandra and Varric, to the Stormcoast to recruit the Iron Bull, and to Val Royeaux, where they'd met the boisterous Red Jenny and the Enchanter, Vivienne. But until now, he had only seen her public face, the diplomatic and graceful representative of Clan Lavellan. He looked at her with a barely contained look of amusement, “And what if he was not in the mood for a party?”  


“Then, I guess we’d just have to engage in a deep conversation and learn whatever we can from him. Maybe he could kill Corypheus for us.” Elara smirked, “But he’s a trickster, isn’t he? I bet he’d enjoy a good party. Not that I know how to throw one. I suppose we could don our flower crowns and run around in the forest barefoot.”  


“I am certain if he still had the strength of a god, he would not let Corypheus go unchecked,” Solas said ruefully, “but maybe he would enjoy your company once he got by your endless sarcasm.”  


Elara smirked, “What about you?"  


"I would like to pick his brain and learn all that I could of our ancestors. And for your sake, I would talk him into this party of yours. You never know, he may actually enjoy cake."  


Elara laughed, "I meant, do you enjoy my company? But it's good to know that you would attend my party. I have the feeling you would become fast friends with an old elven god, even one as ill reputed as the Dread Wolf."  


He kept pace with her, sensing her sidelong glance, and admitted, "I do. Every conversation is a refreshing change of pace compared to the usual exchange I have with elves."  


She had expected from lapse of silence that he hadn't warmed up to her yet, that she was still very much a stranger to him. She would have accepted his silence, but it pleased her to hear his answer. “You are unlike any elf I have ever known,” Elara said and quickly added, remembering that clans would admonish him for being different, "I don't mean that in a bad way." She looked back at the caravan behind her and up the path ahead. “We’ve made it.”  


He silently acknowledged her compliment and followed her through the front gates. She was unlike any elf he had ever known either, and he was intrigued to see where his journey alongside her would take him.


End file.
